


And then there were none

by Tashilover



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: No Romance, horror themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki and Darcy get stuck in a house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Darcy remembered when she twenty-four, she drank an entire bottle of whiskey on a dare. Not the smartest thing to do, but she was at a party, and hey, she made ten bucks doing it. The rest of evening was a blur of colors and movements, strange sounds and basic disorientation. When her senses finally came back to her fourteen hours later, she found herself sleeping underneath a bridge, two states over, with the words  _CAPTAIN_  written across her forehead in red Sharpie.

Besides a few bruises and the odd message written on her (she didn't recognize the handwriting) she was fine. She still had her phone, the ten dollars she earned, and her wallet. She ended up having breakfast at a local Ihop, then jumped onto a bus, and spent the next four hours riding it all the way back home.

Best night ever.

That being said, waking up in an unknown house she had never seen or been in before shouldn't be terrifying. Shouldn't, though it was.

She woke up on the kitchen floor, near the stove. There was no disorientation, no sleepiness. She just opened her eyes and voila, there she was. "Okay," Darcy said to herself, pushing herself up from the white linoleum floor. "This is strange."

The kitchen was a good decent size, much bigger than your average household. The counter tops were a dark, ugly green color, while the cabinets were a light brown. There was also an island, and hanging right above it were copper pans, a wok, and other various kitchen tools. All new, all shiny.

"Shit. Did I break into a rich home?"

She should probably shut up just in case said rich fold were still inside the house. She didn't see an alarm system, so that was a plus for her. She walked to the back door, grasped the handle and turned.

It wouldn't budge.

Darcy jiggled the locks, turning them this way and that, gripping the handle until her palm burned. Nothing she did made a difference. She pulled back, rubbing her red, aching hand. "Shit."

She pushed back the white curtains on the back door to look through its windows. Outside it was bright and sunny day. The backyard had a pool, and a fence Darcy could easily jump over. If she could open the damn door.

She backed away from the door, frowning at it deeply. After a quick search of her pockets, she found her phone.

No signal.

She held her phone up, moving it from side to side, hoping a bar will pop up. When none did, she grumbled and shoved the phone back into her pocket. Might as well try to go out the front door.

The kitchen connected to the living room, bigger and more elaborate. A giant flat screen tv hanged on the wall, and sitting in front of it was a leather couch that could seat at least ten people. The floor was carpeted white, so white that Darcy was skeptic if anyone had actually ever set foot here. There were abstract paintings on the wall, glass figurines on display, and an actual fire place.

There were no signs of life though. Despite the flatscreen, Darcy could not see a tv remote or dvd cases. On a closer inspection of the television, there wasn't finger oil residue on the on/off button. There were also no family pictures on the walls, no calendars, no discarded newspapers. Nobody lives in this house, apparently.

Maybe this was a  _For Sale_  house.

Whatever. Now that Darcy knew she was alone, she was a little more confident in her steps, happy to know she wasn't about to trip an alarm. She went straight for the front door.

She heard the boots before she saw them. The dull thump of leather striking the floor. Darcy slowed, eyebrows furrowing at the sound. A man then turned the corner, and in shock, Darcy stumbled. She fell back, as her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped.

Loki seemed to be just as surprised to see her here. "Hello," he said. "I know you."

Darcy didn't bother to say something witty or rhetorical back. She scrambled backwards on her hands, surged to her feet, and ran for the back door. This time she wasn't so gentle. She rattled the door knob, cursing as she tried to get the damn thing to turn. "C'mon! C'mon!"

Loki's hand slammed against the door, right next to her head. "Oh, don't leave, we just met."

Darcy twirled around to face him. Cripes, he was tall. She had to bend her neck up to look at him. "Okay, look, if you're going to kill me, do it quick."

She then closed her eyes, squeezing them painfully shut, and braced herself for the end. She waited.

"Move."

"What?" Darcy opened her eyes.

Loki didn't bother to repeat himself. He pushed her aside, almost knocking her off her feet. Darcy threw her hands out, catching herself on the kitchen island. She turned back to Loki, who was gripping the door knob now, twisting it as she did.

There was clearly a lot more  _strength_  involved with him. Darcy could hear the door groaning under his hand as he tugged and pulled. Despite the noises, the door refused to budge.

"Whoa," Darcy said. "I thought you were suppose to be strong and stuff."

Loki turned his head towards her, mouth in mid-snarl. Darcy hunched, suddenly reminding herself that this guy could actually kill her.

"I cannot open the front door. Clearly there is something blocking us from exiting." Loki said.

"Yeah? Have you tried smashing a window?"

Loki cocked his head, clearly it was a move he hadn't thought of. Darcy jumped when he suddenly slammed his fist against the glass plated door. It didn't leave a mark. He punched it again and again, until he finally backed away. His fist was covered in blood. "It can't be magic," he said, touching the glass that had his blood smeared over it. "I would have felt it."

"Well, it's not science," Darcy said. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Loki dropped his hand, and gave her an unimpressed look. "Explain."

"Well... who has the best tech in the world? Shield. And I'm one of the good guys, so, they wouldn't lock me in here with you. Soooo... yeah."

"Then if it's not magic or science, what is it?"

Darcy shrugged. "I dunno. Something we haven't seen before."

Loki considered this. "Look around," he commanded. "Search for clues."

What, just like that? He was going to trust her? "You're not going to kill me?"

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Do you  _want_  me to kill you?"

"Huh, no, but-"

"Then shut up, and search for clues. I don't know how long we'll be here and I don't your corpse stinking up the place."

Darcy didn't know if she should feel grateful that it was only because of her rotting corpse that kept Loki from offing her. She was going to go with grateful.

"Blues Clues, Blues Clues," Darcy sang under breath, twirling slowly, not entirely sure what to do or what to look for. When she spotted the refrigerator, she shrugged, and went over to investigate. She opened it, expecting at least a bottle of sauce, but there was nothing inside. Nothing in the freezer either.

"Hmmm..."

The cabinets held cups and plates, though it lacked any sort of design. They were all white, no signs of wear or tear. She picked up a plate, her lips pursing in thought, then she dropped it to the floor. It shattered.

Well, at least the laws of physics still worked. Sorta.

At the sound, Loki poked his head out from the hallway, glaring curiously at her. Darcy shrugged, and Loki went back to doing whatever he was doing, eyes more narrowed than before.

Darcy played with the sink, twirled the knobs on the stove, flicked the light switches. Nothing came on. "Hey, there's no electricity or water in this house!" Darcy said out loud, though she wasn't sure what that meant.

"Find something useful!" Loki called back.

Darcy huffed at him. " _Find something useful... huh..._ " The kitchen was basically empty, so she trailed to the living room, her arms swinging stupidly. There were a few books on the shelves, though none of them bore titles or author names. Darcy pulled one off, thinking it was going to be an art book or the Bible. Inside there were only blank pages.

"Seriously?" She tossed that book aside and picked up another one. That too, was blank.

She pulled book after book after book off the shelf. Every single one was blank. "This is stupid," she said. "What's the point of this place?"

Loki at the moment was busy staring out a window. He wasn't moving, he wasn't trying to figure out how to open the window, he was just looking.

The house was weird, that's for sure. Having Loki here and  _not killing_  Darcy was even weirder. Were they friends now? Darcy didn't think they were friends. Allies? Chums? Once they do figure a way out of here, did he plan to kill her anyways?

Decided to take the road unexplored, Darcy walked up, stood next to Loki, and stared out of the window as well. Outside was the front yard, a tree, the street, and other neighboring houses. There was a car parked in the driveway, and a mailbox with the red flag up. Other than that, there were no other signs of human life.

"Soooooo," Darcy said. "What are we looking at?"

"Nothing," Loki said.

"Oh. Then why are you still standing here?"

"If you bothered to look closer," he hissed. "There's nothing to see. No insects, no birds, no wind. I've been staring at that tree for the past five minutes, waiting for the leaves to rattle, and there has been no movement. There is no point going outside. It is just as dead as it is in here."

He moved away, not bothering to give Darcy a second glance as he stomped up the stairs to the second floor. Darcy watched him go, then moved closer to the window, cupping her hands against the glass to peer outside.

Loki was right. No matter how long Darcy stared, no birds flew by. No squirrels, no butterflies, everything was calm and serene and so devoid of  _life_. It was actually pretty creepy.

She decided to follow Loki upstairs. Suddenly she didn't want to be alone.

Once the top step, Darcy could see three closed doors on her right, and two doors on the left. Loki was already going through the contents of one room. He was pulling the sheets of a bed, inspecting the mattress, and the bed frame. Like downstairs, the upstairs rooms were boring. No posters, no paintings, even the color of the blanket were the same as the wall.

Darcy decided to take the doors to the right. She opened the first door, which revealed a child's room. It had blue wall paper, a smaller bed, but that was it. No toys, no questionable stains, no bottles of baby powder, lotion, or clothes. Darcy didn't bother to thoroughly search this room and went on to the next one.

The next room had to be the bathroom. As empty as this house was, surely it had a bathroom. She hoped if there was, the toilet worked. She didn't know what she'll do if she had to pee It's not as if she could throw it out the window.

Expecting little or nothing, Darcy opened the door.

She was right, it was a bathroom. There was a sink, toilet, and a tub/shower combination devoid of a curtain. Like the others, this room held nothing. No toothbrushes, no toilet paper, no scented candles or sprays. There was one towel and it was white. But unlike the others, this room was occupied.

Darcy cupped her mouth to muffle her gasp. Leaning against the tub was a mummified human being.

Thanks to Jane, Darcy has seen a number of Egyptian mummies with their wraps taken off. Darcy remembered their skin was bone dry, brown, sunken in, clinging to every curve of their skeleton. The lips were pulled back, revealing their teeth, as if they never had lips to begin with. The hair was thin and brittle-looking, the nails long and pointy. The eyes were long gone, all that was left were two gaping holes of horror.

This dude had no clothes on. At least, Darcy thought it was a dude. The genitals were too shriveled up to see if it were man or woman. No breasts either. He was leaning against the tub like he had decided to sit down and relax for a moment, with one arm draped across the edge.

Darcy pressed the back of her hand against her nose. There was no odor she could smell, though that didn't mean she wanted to see if there was.  _What the hell was going on._ Who was this dude? Where did he come from?

Then, without prompt or warning, the dude's head snapped up. It's mouth fell opened. " _Ungh_."

Darcy screamed.

The mummy braced himself against the tub. He then  _launched_  himself off the bathroom floor, as if he were the rock in a slingshot, slamming into Darcy, tackling her to the ground. Darcy managed to throw an arm between them, keeping the mummy's face away from hers. The mouth was snapping at her as its hands painfully gripped her shoulders, refusing to be pushed away. "Ungh! Ahh! Loki! LOKI!"

A hand grabbed the mummy's head by the hair, wrenching it up, away from Darcy's face. Loki tried to tug the mummy away from Darcy, but the thing still had a death grip on Darcy's shoulders.

Grunting, Loki struck out with a fist, snapping the mummy's forearm, dislodging its grip from Darcy's shoulder. With it's broken, snapped arm now loose, Loki struck the other arm, snapping that one as well. Now free, Loki pulled the mummy up and off of Darcy. The damn thing was snapping its jaws noisily, while its broken arms flailed, still trying to reach for something.

Darcy scrambled back. She hit the wall behind her, and yet her legs kicked out, still trying to move back even further.

Loki threw the mummy across the hall, where it crashed against the wall, crumpling to the floor. Darcy pushed herself up, staring at this thing with her mouth wide opened, as it struggled to correct itself.

Just when Darcy thought this couldn't get any worse, the last door opened. A stark, white hand reached out, and grabbed the mummy by the ankle. The hand dragged the mummy swiftly into the room as if the dude weighed nothing at all. "Ugh! Ugh!"

The door slammed shut, and the audible sound of a lock clicking into place was heard. Silence followed after.

Finally, Darcy couldn't take it anymore. "What the hell was that?"

"I don't know," Loki said. He was grinning. "But I want to find out."


	2. Chapter 2

"You're not actually trying to go in there, are you?"

"Of course I am. The answers we're looking for are through that door."

"The person behind that door is also strong enough to keep you prisoner here. Are you sure you want to confront them?"

"You have a better plan?"

Darcy pouted unhappily.

"My point exactly," Loki sneered, turning his attention back on the door. "I am not easily killed."

"Well, I am," Darcy murmured to herself.

Loki raised his arm. Darcy braced herself, waiting for him to pound against the door. Maybe he'll kick it in. Maybe he'll slam his shoulder against it. Maybe Darcy needs to stop watching so many movies.

She watched in anticipation as Loki curled his hand into a tight fist. He moved his arm back and-

He politely knocked on the door.

Darcy dropped her guard. "Really?"

Loki didn't answer right away. He waited a few seconds, waiting for an invitation to follow. When none came, he shrugged and said, "Just testing the waters." Then he raised his fist properly and started pounding on the door.

The cuts on his knuckles reopened immediately, decorating the white door in his blood. Every few moments his hand would go back on the door knob, twisting it see if anything has changed. When it didn't, he resumed his assault.

Darcy was biting the cuticle from her thumb. When Loki stepped back, positioning himself to now kick the door down, Darcy suddenly said, "Wait."

Loki halted. He looked to her with an eyebrow raised, clearly annoyed.

"Can I..." Darcy stepped closer. Her hand was in her pocket, searching through her keys and loose change. "Can I try something?"

"What?"

Finally, Darcy found it. From her pocket, she pulled out a small, thin piece of metal, with a flat end. It looked like a poor man's screwdriver. "My little brother is autistic," Darcy said, gesturing to Loki to step back. He did, allowing her to kneel down in front of the door. "Ever since he was a kid, he's had this bad habit of locking himself in the bathroom. So my parents and I keep this tool on ourselves just in case he does it again."

Robbie outgrew locking himself in bathrooms around the age of fifteen. Though it's been five years since then, Darcy carried her little tool with her always. She never  _ever_  wanted to relive those days when Robbie was stuck on the other side of a locked door, bawling his eyes out, unable to understand what was happening.

"Why didn't you try that on the door downstairs?" Loki asked.

"Different lock, this thing won't fit in the key hole," Darcy said, sliding her tool into the hole sitting in the middle of the doorknob. It was damn lucky she could even do this much. Even if she was unable to unlock the door with her tool, maybe she could find a way to pick it.

She didn't have to. The flat end fitted nicely into the spot Darcy was looking for. She twisted the piece of metal to the left, unlocking the door.

"Voila."

Loki was not impressed. "Move," he said, pushing her aside.

"Hey! I am not a rag doll!"

He ignored her. He gripped the doorknob and turned, meeting no resistance. The door opened an inch, and Loki paused, ear straining for sounds on the other side. Hearing nothing, he pushed the door opened.

"Interesting."

Darcy stood a few feet away, afraid what'll pop out. She didn't know what Loki was staring at. He was cocking his head in curiosity, lips pursed in a silent, "Hmmmm..."

He stepped forward to go into the room.

Darcy scrambled to get close, practically crowding up in Loki's back.

"What the-? Get off of me!"

"Huh-uh! I've seen this movie, the moment you go through that door, it's going to shut behind you. And I am not going to be left alone!"

Loki twisted around to face her. Darcy took a step back, realizing her mistake, but that didn't stop Loki from placing a hand on her face, and shoving her back, knocking her on her ass.

She crashed none too gently against the wall. The move stunned her more than hurt her. From the ground, she peered up at Loki, who was glowering down at her, teeth bared. "I will only repeat myself one more time," he said, uncaring that his back was facing the opened room. "I have not killed you because I do not wish to deal with the  _mess_. However, if dealing with your eccentrics takes more energy than needed, I would prefer your corpse. Do you understand me, mortal?"

He didn't bother to wait for an answer. He turned, his attention back on the room.

On the floor, Darcy brought her knees up to her chest. She sniffled.

Darcy was not a hero. She was not Captain America, she was not  _Thor_. She did things because they were interesting to her, because sometimes she had no other choice. She didn't choose to be here. This was not an adventure. She didn't want to be the damsel in distress.

Every second that ticked by, more and more she wanted to be home, in her own bed, in her own apartment. She wanted to talk to Jane, talk to Robbie, talk to her parents. The longer she was here, the more frightened she became.

What was worse, her one and only ally was Loki: the crazy trickster god with daddy issues. It would be so easy for him to kill her, and nothing she could do or say would stop him.

Darcy wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. If she wanted to get out of here, she was going have to figure out how. Shakily, Darcy pushed herself up to her feet. She then followed Loki into the room.

She gaped at the sight. "Holy-"

The room was  _decorated_. Unlike the other rooms, where the walls, furniture, and bed were devoid of all color, this room looked like someone actually lived in it. The bed had a deep purple blanket and pillow set, with little white flowers dotting downwards in single lines. To the right was an open closet, presenting clothing for a man and woman. There were dresses, trousers, suits and shoes, all neatly arranged, showing various degrees of use. There was even a black dress in there that had deodorant stains. On one side of the bed there was a vanity, and spread across it Darcy could see jewelry, foundation, blush, and other cosmetics. On the other side of the bed sat a work desk. No computer could be seen, unfortunately. Though Darcy doubted if there was one, it would work.

There was another door to the left, already opened. Darcy assumed the master bathroom. "There's no one here," Loki hissed, coming out of the bathroom. He searched the room again, checking under the bed, the closet, pushing the clothes aside. "There is no way they could hide."

There was a lone picture, sitting on a nightstand. Darcy picked it up, frowning at it. The picture held a generic family of husband, wife, and two kids. They were standing outside, posing in front of the pool Darcy had seen downstairs in the backyard.

It was a very nice picture, except someone had scratched their faces out.

"Creepy..." Darcy muttered, putting the frame back down.

Though this room finally had personality to it, it still lacked human life. There was no smell of lingering perfume or cologne. None of the books had bookmarks in them, none of the pens were scattered about, none of the papers were written on. The bed was perfectly made, the blankets looking as fresh as the day they were bought. Darcy felt like she was standing in the middle of a set for an Ikea catalog picture.

"I checked everywhere," Loki spat. "I don't know where they've gone."

Darcy kept her silence. She had nothing to add on, nothing to help. She had thought about mentioning maybe they both hallucinated the mummy, but she didn't want to set Loki off. Maybe she should stop talking all together.

She pulled back the light blue curtains by the window. She peered out to the fake world below. Though the second floor gave her a better view of the neighborhood, it mostly emphasized how empty it was. No children playing, no dogs digging holes in the background, no automatic sprinklers. It was so fucking creepy.

It was such a  _beautiful_  day too. The sunlight was streaming through the window, basking Darcy in it's warmth. Robbie loved days like these. He would often sit in his room (his door kept opened) for hours, letting his fingers dance in the light, watching the way floating bits of dust would swirl and dip in between his hands.

Darcy was mimicking the movement now, her eyes focused on her dancing shadow. Heh. Dancing shadow. Like Peter Pan.

Shadow.

 _Shadow_.

"What are you doing?"

Loki's voice snapped Darcy out of her thoughts. She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth opening in a silent cry of frustration.

She was  _onto to something_ , she knew it. If he'd only given her a few seconds more, maybe she could have cracked this whole thing.

Loki raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to say something.

Darcy tried to explain. Nope, it was gone. "Argh!" She cried.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki began tearing the house apart. Once he was done searching through the decorated room, he started on the others again. He took apart the crib in the empty baby room until it was nothing more than a pile of wood on the floor. He mutilated the mattresses, split the pillows apart, overturned chairs and tables.

By the time he was done, he was breathing heavily as sweat dribbled down his face. "I feel nothing," he spat, slumping against a wall. He slid to the floor, resting his arms on his knees. "If this is magic, it is much more advanced than mine."

Darcy kept a respectable distance throughout the destruction. Lest she be in his eye line should he suddenly decide he wanted to break something- or someone- else. Truth be told, a part of her wanted to join in on the destruction.

Not because she thought she could find something, but because it would be cathartic.

Even now, while Loki rested on the floor, next to the broken flatscreen he kicked in, she kept her distance. She was looking through the kitchen, quietly opening and closing the drawers. She opened them so gently, the utensils barely made noise as they shifted in their spot.

"How old is your brother?"

Darcy startled. She jumped away from the drawer full of white kitchen towels and asked, "What?"

"Your brother," Loki said again, not bothering to raise his voice. His breathing was a little calmer. "How old is he?"

"...twenty."

Loki hummed. "So young, you humans."

Darcy didn't know what to say to that. He didn't sound like he was judging, simply observing. "He works in a library," she decided to say. "When the books are damaged, he fixes them. Broken spines, loose pages, things like that. It's simple work, but he enjoys the quiet."

She then paused, wondering if it was good idea to tell the guy who  _destroyed New York_ about intimate details of her family.

"And what are you?" Loki continued. "Thor's cheerleading squad?"

He said it mockingly, but there was a tiredness in his voice, like he only made the joke because it was expected of him. "I'm a student," Darcy said. "I'm suppose to graduate sometime this year."

Well, that was a lie. After SHIELD took all their stuff, after Thor, and all the craziness that went down in New Mexico, Darcy never went back to school. Too much was going on, Jane needed her help, and as a result, formal education took a backseat on priorities. Darcy could go back. But she didn't care. She was Jane's intern in name only. There were no official documents to be seen.

Why was Loki asking all of these questions? Was he bored? "What were you doing before you landed here?" Darcy asked.

"Escaping from prison," Loki said like it was no big deal. "There are dozens of little passageways out of Asgard. Not even I have explored them all. I must have hit some kind of... rift, because the next thing I knew, I was here. With you."

Darcy tried to process that. Jane did say there were probably thousands, if not millions of different dimensions running through space, and Asgard was probably smack dab in the middle of it all. If there was a way in, then there must be a way out.

"And you?" Loki asked, interrupting her thoughts. "Where were you?"

"My apartment," Darcy said. "My place doesn't exactly have magical properties to it, so I'm a little confused how I ended up here."

"Perhaps your neighbor is a witch or warlock. Were you stealing someone's wi-fi signal? I know that would anger me enough to want to send someone to another plane of existence."

Everything about that sentence was so strange, it took literally a minute for it to sink into Darcy's brain. "I... wait... huh... what? WHAT? You know what a wi-fi signal is?"

Loki made a face at her. "Yes, of course I do."

"But... you're... Thor once broke my ipod because he thought the people singing on it were trapped! How do you know about such things?"

"I  _told_  you. There are many passages in and out of Asgard. I've been to Earth many, many times. I know the language, I learned the culture and the mannerisms. I've toured the streets of New York, I've walked across the Great Wall of China, I've attended baseball games in Japan. I am not my brother. He explored because he always wanted an adventure, to seek out enemies and become glorious in battle.  _I_  explored because I was curious. I wanted to see what the world offered, what the universe offered. And sometimes that required blending in. Do as the Romans do, as is your catch phrase."

Darcy gaped. "So... what, do you have like, a  _job_ , or something?"

"I own a horse ranch out in Montana."

Darcy continued to stare, her eyes practically ready to pop out of her head. Suddenly, she started giggling.

It was all so ridiculous. A fucking horse ranch? One of the most dangerous men in the world has a fucking horse ranch in  _Montana_? It was too absurd not to laugh at. She giggled even harder. She pressed her hands over her mouth like a child, trying to keep the giggles in.

Loki smiled at her, and it was a genuine, soft smile. Not a smirk, not a grin, not a sneer. It made him look young.

Once Darcy got the giggles under control, she asked, "So, um, who's watching the ranch now?"

"I got people I can trust. They believe I am busy conducting business on the other side of the world and understand I can't be there all the time."

There were so many other questions Darcy wanted to ask. Like, where did he get the horses? How many were there? Did he breed them, or did he use them to herd cattle like in the movie,  _City Slickers_? Does he watch movies? If so, which one was his favorite?

She didn't ask any of them. At the end of the day, it didn't matter if she desperately wanted to sate her own curiosity. (Was this how Jane felt all the time?) Loki was still a monster. He's  _killed_  people.  _Hundreds_  of them. And here Darcy was, getting chummy with him as if he were a friend.

Someone must have kicked her in the head before she got here.

Darcy moved away. "I'm going to recheck upstairs again," she said. She didn't bother to give Loki a second glance as she quickly went up the stairs, having no idea what to do next.


	4. Chapter 4

Darcy was not a fan of mystery novels. Of any type of novel, actually. The last book she read cover to cover was Harry Potter, and that was over three years ago. Getting stuck inside what seems to be a plot written by Stephen King made her want to chuck a book at an English major's head.

Going back upstairs alone was probably not the best idea. At least skeleton man was not around anymore.

There had to be a logical explanation for this house. Jane said there was an explanation for everything, even magic. Darcy had to figure this out. If she didn't, she was sure Jane would un-intern her. If that was possible.

First thing first, what did Darcy have on hand? Be like Tom Hanks in Cast Away. You don't know what could be life saving until you needed it.

Besides her useless cell phone, Darcy had her wallet with her ID, twenty dollars, and a few membership cards. She had Robbie's key, her own keys with a miniature sharpie attached to them. She also had her clothes, her jeans, her cotton shirt with the word COOKIE bolded in pink across the chest. She wore boots, not sneakers, so no laces to be used. Her cheap, Walmart watch. And her jacket, three years old and fading at the elbows.

Staring at the blue, naked walls of the nursery, Darcy popped the lid off her little keychain sharpie.

The difference between science and mischief? Writing it down.

Or at least that's how Darcy thought the quote went.

 _House_ , she wrote high above her. And in bullet points beneath it, she wrote, _empty. Magic(?) Science(?)_

On another space next to it, she wrote down Loki's name. _Weak(?) Fucking with me(?) Who can trick a trickster god(?)_

Next to Loki, she wrote down her own name. Then, under her name, _Not valuable_.

Darcy stepped back as soon as she wrote that. This wasn't a dig at her own self-worth. She didn't have a brain like Jane. Darcy wasn't strong, she wasn't powerful, she had no political connections. When you take a King, you take the Queen, not the squire. So what did that mean?

 _Accident_ , she wrote. Maybe they meant to grab Loki and someone else, but took Darcy by mishap. Maybe Loki was here by accident too. She wrote _accident_ down in between their names, and drew a line connecting them both to it.

Darcy stepped back and stared at her handiwork, eyes narrowing as she tried to figure it out. This was a family home. A rich family home.

And what about that decorated room? Why was that room the only one with any semblance to human life? It was the Master bedroom. It had the photographs. It had personality.

"What the hell are you writing?"

Darcy didn't bother to turn around to face Loki. She kept staring at her notes, trying to decipher their meaning. "We're missing something," she said. "Something big."

Loki stared at her notes. His eyes did not stray from the _who can trick a trickster god_ line.

"See something interesting?" Darcy asked.

"You wouldn't believe how often people try to trick me," he said, reaching up and tapping the words with his finger. "Even Thor has tried to pull the wool over my eyes. He fails, every time. Some people believe if they can fool me, it would bring them great honor. Like shooting a lion on an African hunt."

Darcy stomped down on her surprise at Loki's knowledge of what an African hunt was. "So have you ever been tricked?"

"Yes." He sounded bitter.

"Oh yeah? By whom? Doing what?"

He went quiet.

Darcy opened her mouth, wanting to ask him again, then thought better of it. Despite the situation they were in, Darcy felt like Loki was playing a game with her. A game he only knew the rules to. Maybe it was his version of Stockholm syndrome.

Then, after a minute of complete silence from him, he said, "Thor."

Darcy blinked. She totally forgot what they were talking about. "What?"

"Thor tricked me. When we were children. I had broken Thor's favorite spear. It was an accident, but he swore revenge. For days after, I avoided him, expecting his wrath in some form or another."

"Thor would hit you?"

"Hmm? Ah, no, he wasn't that cruel. His revenges involved things like tackling me on my way to dinner and sticking his _wet fingers_ into my ears."

Darcy bit her lips. Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh...

"The anticipation was _killing me_ ," Loki hissed. "So I finally confronted Thor and dared him to do his worst. And did you know what he did?"

He looked at her, and waited. Great, Loki was one of those people who expected a response to those type of questions. Darcy shrugged her shoulders.

"Nothing," he said. "Thor had gotten a new weapon from his sword master and had completely forgotten what I had done."

Darcy cocked her head in confusion. "That's the trick, that there was no trick? Your own paranoia got to you?"

"What can trick a trickster?" Loki said, snatching Darcy's pen out of her hand. He wrote down his own name beneath the question.

"So what are you saying? That _you're_ the one doing this?"

" ** _WHAT?_** " Loki said, snapping his head towards her. "What kind of idiotic logic is that? Why the _hell_ would I want to be stuck in a house with you?"

"I dunno, but at the moment, your argument is only _you_ can trick yourself! Thus, YOU are tricking yourself now, as we speak!"

"I am not a child! I've mastered my control over my own magicks. This is not my doing."

He had crushed Darcy's pen in his fist. She watched in mute fascination as the pen leaked black ink over his knuckles, dripping onto the floor below.

"Physics..." she said, still watching dripping ink. "Despite everything, the natural laws still apply here..."

Loki looked at his black-stained hand, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Look, just shut up for a moment and let me rant about this."

A small portion of Darcy was aware she had just told a Norse god to shut up. Her mind was racing too fast to give the offending language weight.

"Why would someone create a world where physics still work? That's stupid, if I was building an alternate universe, it would be impossible to drop a plate. That way I wouldn't have to clean up the mess or lose a plate. But no, here, up is still up, down is still down. That's why we still have shadows, why things fall and break, and why ink drips off your knuckles! Whoever made this world didn't make it on purpose!"

Loki was not impressed. "Fascinating deduction, but it still doesn't solve our current dilemma."

He was right. Darcy only solved a portion of the the puzzle, and not a very big piece of it. "We need to go back to the Room of Requirement."

"The _what_?"

Darcy was already moving towards the stairs. "The room that had all the stuff! Our answer will be in there!"


	5. Chapter 5

The very first thing Darcy grabbed was the creepy faceless photo of the family. As soon as she looked at it, she flinched at the sight, voicing her disgust at its creepiness. "Ugh," she huffed. She made herself look at it longer.

Mother. Father. Son. Daughter Mother. Father. Son. Daughter. Over and over she stared at the photo, staring intently at each person, looking over their clothes, their skin, their hair, anything that could give Darcy a clue of what was going on. "Hey, hey, look at this," Darcy said, holding up the photo for Loki to see.

Loki took the photo. He looked it over. He shrugged. "So?"

"There," Darcy pointed at the mother. "Look at the way her hand is positioned over her stomach. The only time when I see women do this is-"

"When they're with child," Loki said. Darcy couldn't help but roll her eyes. Really? 'With child'? Was the word _pregnant_ too hard for him to use?

The realization clicked in Loki's eyes. "The blue baby room."

"This house belonged to this family," Darcy urged. "This place wasn't created from imagination, it was real at some point. Now, I think if we can find out what happened to this family, we can find out what happened to us."

Loki smiled down at her. "Ingenious," he said.

Darcy couldn't help it, she flushed under the compliment. "Yeah, well... it's still just one clue to the mystery."

"One clue will lead to more. That skeleton man who attacked you. Did you notice anything strange about him?"

"Besides the fact he was a skeleton who attacked me? Um... I wasn't sure if it was even _a_ him. I didn't see a... you know."

"I know I'm a thousand years older than you, child, but you're old enough to say _penis_."

Darcy cringed. "God, okay, I didn't see a penis! Or a vagina! Or breasts! It's a mummy, it was probably shriveled up long before we got here."

"Look at these clothes..." Loki said, pointing to the open closet. "One side for the man, the other for the woman."

"Yeah? That's how a lot of people separate their clothes."

"Look _closer_ ," he hissed. "The mother's wardrobe is completely devoid of trousers. It's full of dresses. What woman do you know nowadays who wears nothing but dresses?"

Darcy thought about it. "Er... no one."

"Right. The house is full of modern luxuries, and yet the clothes suggest a complete lack of gender freedom. The blue baby room, the sexless mummy..." He stared hard the photo. "Look, notice the other children? The faces may be scratched out, but I believe they're twins."

"Okay."

"One boy, the other a girl. The boy is wearing a _suit_. Sheesh, the girl has bows in her hair. This family was so traditional to a point of it being sickening."

"So something must've upset the status quo, then," Darcy said. "I mean, when I fourteen I got my nose pierced and my mom cried for like an hour. I wonder what would have happened in this family if the daughter came home with short hair and wearing pants?"

Loki studied her face for a moment. "I was wondering where you got that scar from."

"Hey!" Darcy slapped a hand over her nose. "S'not my fault it got infected!"

"One of the children must have had extraordinary powers. One of the twins, perhaps the baby itself, and created this world. Still doesn't explain how or why we got here."

"Well, let's deal with one question at a time. Okay, so imagine you're a frustrated young person in a terribly conservative, stifling, rich family. What would be your first option?"

"Kill them."

Darcy stared at him. "Okay, what would be your _second_ option?"

"Running away."

"Would you take your sibling with you?"

He had to think about that. "Depends. Would they be dead weight? Would they even want to go? They probably don't mind the stupid rules and would prefer to stay."

"Are you older than Thor or younger?"

"What does _that_ got to do with anything?"

In that moment, Darcy knew Loki was the younger brother. Loki didn't know what it was like to be the older sibling, to always feel like you had to look out for your baby brother no matter what. If Darcy was forced to run away, no way would she ever leave Robbie behind.

"They're twins," Darcy said. "They wouldn't dare leave each other behind. They would have left together but something kept them here."

"The baby," said Loki. "Maybe they were waiting for it to be born."

"Maybe it was already born and they knew there was no way for two little kids to take care of a baby. Something _happened_ to this family. Something tipped the scales, and created hell on earth. What did these kids see and experience to trigger their... powers?"

"You saw the baby toys. How new they looked."

"Everything in this house looks new."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Look closer," he hissed, grabbing a rattler out of the piles of stuff and held it up for her to see. He shook it. The little balls inside clattered. "This isn't a toy for a two year old. This is a toy for a newborn. For a child only a few months old."

"Okay... so that means... what? The baby died? Accidentally killed? Sudden death syndrome?"

Dracy shivered as soon as she said that, and she wrapped her arms around herself, gasping. "Did the room just drop twenty degrees?"

It was not her imagination, it felt colder than it did a second ago. Loki noticed it too thought it didn't affect him. He looked around. "We activated something," he said. "Don't know how, but we did."

It was getting colder.


	6. Chapter 6

Darcy couldn't get warm.

She pulled the blankets off of the beds from the bedrooms and draped them over herself like a cape. It wasn't just her imagination, it was getting colder by the hour. Her breath came out in white puffs. The color in the house, once a vibrant, bright shade of yellow and peach, darken to a pale blue hue.

Loki's breath breath came out in puffs too, but he didn't seem affected by the cold like Darcy. If anything, the cold made him more determined.

"COME OUT HERE, YOU LITTLE BRATS!" He yelled through the house. "COME AND GET ME!"

Maybe he was intentionally antagonizing the twins to come out. Maybe he was getting frustrated beyond belief. It was not as if he was sharing his plan with Darcy. He continued to call the twins names, mocking them. He even went so far as to switch between languages as he yelled. Darcy was pretty sure Loki just called them 'ass-fuckers' in French.

"Are you sure you're just not making things worse?" Darcy asked, shivering under the pile of blankets draped over her.

"This is the first reaction we've got from the house since the mummy," Loki said. "I am not giving that up."

"It's so cold..."

She said it quietly, hunching in on herself, desperate to get warm. She didn't have gloves or earmuffs, and the blankets were more decorative than actual covers. She wasn't sure she could handle another hour like this.

"Stop exaggerating," Loki said, huffing. "It's not that cold."

Said the mother fucking ice giant. God, this was like back in elementary when the PE teacher forced the kids to run laps outside, no matter the wather. "It's not that cold," he would say while wearing a jacket with the hood pulled up.

"W-where are you going?" Darcy asked when Loki went for the stairs again. He had been screaming non-stop for nearly ten minutes now.

"To try something new," he gave as explanation, dismissing her. Without another look in her direction, he stomped back up to the second level.

Good god, if Darcy didn't do something to get warm soon, she was going to catch her death. Dragging her blankets with her, she went to the fireplace.

In rich houses like these, fireplaces were mostly used as a decorative area rather than a central heating system. This was confirmed when she pulled back the metal gate to see the logs sitting in the fireplace were fake. This fireplace relied on a gas outlet, only to be used during short periods of time. Darcy seriously doubted she would be able to turn on the gas.

It was not as if gas would help anyways; she didn't have a lighter or matches on her. She could use the empty books for kindle, but what could she use as a strike? There were knives and stuff in the kitchen. Maybe she could... spark something together? She was not a fucking boy scout, she didn't know.

She should at least try. With a shudder, Darcy started for the kitchen.

She heard a **_fwump_** behind her, and she turned slowly, confused by the noise. The blankets she had draped around herself slid off. She didn't notice. Her hands were still up, her fingers curled as if still clutching them. Her fingers were so cold, she didn't even feel the fabric slip out of her hands.

Oh, this was bad. She knew it was cold, but she didn't realize how much until now. If her fingers had gone numb to a point she stopped registering pressure and touch all together, that meant Darcy was in real danger of hypothermia.

She stumbled into the kitchen, desperate now to find something to create a spark. She needed to start a fire. NOW.

The drawers held standard cutlery: butter knives, forks and spoons. Another drawer had a turkey baster, a whisk, a rolling pin, and plain white oven mitts. She was hoping she could find a honing rod, and use that as a possible strike. No matter where she looked, she didn't find one. Apparently rich folk didn't believe in sharpening their blades.

Darcy grabbed two small steak knives. Maybe these would be efficient enough.

Her hands were shaking so badly, she could barely coordinate. Through sheer will she managed to set the blades against each other.

"Wait," she muttered, twisting around. She wasn't anywhere near the fireplace. She hadn't even set up the books yet. And- oh fuck, oh shit, didn't she need some kind of _accelerant?_ She didn't have gas or wine or-

She dropped the knives. They slid out of her hands and onto the floor. "Shit."

She was too cold to even curse more profoundly than that. This was bad, this was so, so bad. "Loki," she gasped, turning her towards the stairs. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Lo... Lo..."

Suddenly Darcy was on the floor, leaning against the bottom cabinets. She didn't even remember dropping. She didn't feel any pain either, though she was dimly aware she must've bruised the hell out of her tailbone. She couldn't stop shivering.

Was she dying? She couldn't... tell...

Without meaning to, her eyes slowly closed. It felt nice to lay back and sink into the darkness. It didn't feel that cold anymore.


	7. Chapter 7

Loki didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to get scared.

He's fought many foes, faced many challenged, and though he's lost numerous times over the years, he was always given the option to fight back.

He could lose, that was an option as well, but that was not the point. If he was going to lose, he wanted going down swinging, screaming, spitting into the faces of his advisories.

In this goddamn house, he didn't have that privilege. There was no foe to face, no monster to destroy, not even a name he could curse to the heavens. Even now, as the house grew cold and dark, nothing else was happening. He wandered from room to room, hoping something else had changed.

"Are you upset?" He said out loud. "We almost figured you out. What was the straw that broke the camel's back? Did you find your son kissing another boy? Was your wife considering going back to work? Answer me, you disgusting hubris of man!"

He waited for retaliation. Nothing came.

"WOMEN HOLD POSITIONS OF POWER AND ARE IN CONTROL OVER THEIR OWN BODIES! HOMOSEXUALITY HAS BEEN AROUND FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS! VIRGINITY IS NOT REAL!"

In terms of war cries, it was the dumbest thing he's ever yelled. He didn't have a weapon to brandish to help emphasize his meaning. He wasn't sure if he was being heard. For all he knew, he was yelling into the cosmos.

Oh lord, was he turning into Thor?

Loki groaned, ran his hands down his face and looked up to the ceiling in dispair.

This house had an attic.

Loki startled. Up on the ceiling was a white knob and the obvious outline of a pulldown staircase.

That was not there before. He would have noticed it.

Loki was furious with himself. He didn't even consider there could be an attic to this ugly house. He looked around, glad to know the girl was downstairs. He was sure if she saw his humiliation, he would've struck out in anger.

He grabbed the knob and pulled down the sliding staircase easily. "I'm coming up!" He yelled as he climbed. "Prepare yourself, you louse!"

He got to the top and found nothing.

"Fuck me," he hissed, pulling himself up fully. The attic was large enough to be a crawl space. Loki had to bend his head to avoid bashing it into the beams. Like the rest of the house, there was nothing here. Not even boxes.

"What do you want?" He screamed into the silence. "You fucking rat bastards! Answer me, you inbred, southern hicks-!"

The ladder to the attic suddenly rolled up behind him, slammed itself shut, locking him in.

He waited a beat.

When nothing else happened, he grunted and walked over to the ladder. He nudged it with his foot. It refused to move.

"Of course," he said, turning back around. "Is that the best you got?"

There was a woman curled up in the corner.

Loki paused at the sight of her. She was as thin as the skeleton man, frail and sickly looking. Her long brown hair was brittle, her eyes were sunken in, and she had a worn blanket wrapped around her tightly. She placed a bony finger against her lips. "Don't speak so loudly. He'll hear you..."

"Who will hear me?" Loki asked, not bothering to lower his voice. He wanted to be found. He wanted to _hit_ something. "Your husband?"

The woman shook her head. "My son."

"Your... wait, what?"

Loki hated this, hated waiting for a punchline that was never going to come. He didn't mind when the occasional joke or prank was pulled on him. No point of being a trickster god if he couldn't handle a joke, but at some point it had to end. Mysteries had to be solved, stories had to have a conclusion.

It was Thor and the goddamn spear all over again; the anticipation was _killing_ him.

Very slowly, the woman reached down and touched her stomach. "He didn't want change," she said. "He wanted everything to stay the same."

" _The baby?_ " Loki spat out. "The child is doing all of this?"

She nodded.

Loki advanced on her. He was not above throttling a sickly woman. "Alright, enough of these cryptic games. Using short, complete sentences, tell me what the hell is going on here."

The woman blinked up at him. Her eyes were smokey white. "My family has always been blessed with gifts," she said. "Empathy, foresight, telepathy, but they were quiet gifts. Weak. For example I could move objects with my mind, but I can never lift anything heavier than three pounds. I mostly used my gift to win prizes at the claw machine."

She smiled at the memory. Loki scowled.

"When my son was born... we knew he was immensely powerful. Powerful than all of us, but we did our best to raise him. He had his quirks, as most children do. He didn't like change. If dinner was pushed back a half hour, he threw a fit. If his favorite tv show was cancelled for the news, he threw a fit."

"And this?" Loki asked, gesturing to the house. "What fit caused this?"

"My divorce. My husband isn't gifted, so he was not prepared for the onslaught of having gifted children. I gave him his divorce, but when we broke the news to the children, my son... broke reality."

She tapped the wall with her knuckles. It made a dull, thunking noise. "We neither here nor there. We're stuck somewhere in between realities, between worlds. Never changing, never moving forward."

Never growing older, never growing up. This home wasn't conservative because the family were narrow-minded, pretentious hicks. They were trying to survive with a monsterous power who had the mindset of Peter Pan.

Loki groaned. "So that's the mystery? This is all because of a _tantrum_? That is the worse conclusion I've ever heard."

" _Excuse me?"_ For the first time, an emotion other than tired resignation was on her face: bafflement. She scrunched up her face. "This isn't a story."

"No. Stories have purpose. This house has no purpose. It has no beginning, middle or end."

The woman snorted. "Oh, it has an end. He's losing power. He can't maintain this existence any longer. One by one he's been eating us. The twins. My ex-husband. Sucking our powers dry until there's nothing but a husk. Sooner or later he'll come for me."

Loki didn't consider himself to be a cruel god. He didn't torture, he didn't take pride in watching his foes yell in pain or anguish. He also refused to inflict any of his games upon babes. On occasion he might give an annoying youngster a painful flick behind the ear, but he did his best to never cause them permanent damage.

No matter the sins he felt toward Odin, towards Thor, he didn't care to see their pain. He wanted to see them kneeling before him as their one true king, but that was a different story.

"Why am I here, then?" Loki asked. "To be eaten as well?" He curled his fists tightly. Let the little bastard try.

"This place is a dying star. When it collaspses, it'll take everything with it. Including my son. He needs an escape."

An escape? If Loki couldn't get out of here now, what made the brat think he could do it while this little pocket dimension imploded? As an escape artist, Loki was the best, but he had to assess the situation fully before jumping into unknown holes and random spots in the universe. He was impatient, not foolish. "Then what about the girl?"

"What girl?"

"The girl!" Loki realized he had no idea what her name was. That was shameful, even for him. "She was brought here as well, but she has no powers, no gifts. She's merely human."

The woman frowned. Then she gasped. "Is she still alive?"

"I... yes-"

"She's a vessel! My son will use her body as a means to escape. You need to prevent that!"

"Blasted hells."

Loki turned back to the ladder. "Lower this."

"It's not my doing."

He kicked it. Like before, it did nothing. He growled.

"Your son is a fool," Loki said, kicking the ladder again. "I am a master of my magicks. And I know like all gifts, it still bows down to the will of the universe, to its natural laws."

He kept kicking. Vibrations ran up his leg with every strike, giving promises of pain and ache if he continued like this. He continued talking, uncaring if the woman could not hear him over the noise of his strikes. He wasn't talking to her anyways.

"As the girl said, that is why _up_ and _down_ still exist. Left and right, front and back. You have no idea what you're doing or how to stop it. Instead of accepting the fact you're dying, you chose instead to prolong your pathetic existence by sucking the life out of your family. You're not human, you're a parasite."

The ladder cracked under his foot. He didn't stop, he didn't pause to see exactly how much damage he'd done. He kept at it, gritting his teeth as his kicks became more and more forceful.

"I am not your tool! I am not a thing to be used! I am a GOD, you simpleton! And I! WILL! NOT! COMPROMISE!"

He riased his foot high and brought it down sharply. The wood underneath groaned, and suddenly snapped. The entire ladder, the door itself, fell off the hinges, crashing to the hallway below. Dust and debris flew up into the air, watering Loki's eyes.

"Go!" Said the woman with ferocity in her voice. "Save the girl! Stop my son!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Body horror and implied sexual assault but not really

Loki didn't bother with the stairs. He threw himself over the balcony, landing heavily onto the bottom floor. When he and Thor were children, they used to race to the dinner table exactly like this. The moment the dinner bell rang, they dropped everything they were doing and ran for it. Thor, the muscle-headed child he was and always will be, would elbow Loki out of the way. Loki was faster and often dodged his attacks. As they got older their races became more elaborate: Loki would use magic to pull the rug out from underneath Thor's feet, and Thor would tackle Loki, hold him down until he exhausted himself out, and then leave him on the floor.

It was strange, Loki thought as he ran to the living room, that he would think of Thor in this moment. Loki turned the corner and there the girl was.

A thin, kneeling, _naked_ pale man held up the girl's unconscious body in his arms. Like the mummy, the man was nothing but skin and bones, and logically should be only seconds away from collapsing from starvation. He had no eyes, just two gaping black holes where his eyes should be. The girl's head was hanging at a strange angle, and the man gently turned her to face up at him. He opened her mouth.

For a horrifying second Loki thought he came upon a rape scene.

The man shoved his hand into the girl's mouth. It slid in easily like she had no teeth or limited jaw space. He kept going, his elbow nearly inside of her mouth when Loki strode forward, grabbed him by the thin strands of his hair and violently pulled him away from the girl. The man's arm slid out and he screamed, clawing at Loki's hand, desperate to get back.

"Disgusting fool," Loki sneered, dragging him towards the kitchen. "Ironic you can't find your way out of your own man-made hell. Just sit here and rot."

He threw the man against the back door. The man scrambled, trying to right himself, excpet his limbs couldn't coordinate and he ended up flailing like a fish on land.

From behind, the girl was hacking up a lung. She heaved, desperate to get air in her, and croaked out, "What... happened?"

Loki looked at her. He pointed to the man. "This _thing_ tried to possess your body. I saved you."

"...What?"

"You're welcome."

He turned back. The man was gone.

"What-? No! Goddamn it!"

He walked around the kitchen island to ensure the man didn't crawl out of his sight. Nope, he was gone. Loki stared up at the ceiling. "TRY IT AGAIN, SEE WHAT HAPPENS YOU PRICK!"

The girl struggled to get to her feet, shrugging off the blankets around her shoulders. She was still coughing. "Who... are you yelling at? What's... going... on?"

Loki told her.

By the end of it, the girl had recovered enough strength to stand, to talk without the rasp in her voice. "So all of this resulted in a temper tantrum?"

"That's what I said!" Loki exclaimed.

"Yeah, you two should be best buddies..." she muttered softly.

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing. You said the mother is in the attic? Let's talk to her, see if she can help."

Loki couldn't help but feel like he offended her somehow. As the girl brushed past him, suddenly he remembered the task he wanted to do. "What's your name?"

"What?"

"Your name, girl, your name. What is it."

"I... I've been involved with Thor all these years and you don't even know my name-!"

"I'm asking it now. Are you going to tell me, because I am not playing this dumb game-"

"It's Darcy."

"Darcy. Alright. It's nice to meet you."

Darcy stared at him for a long moment. She wasn't smiling.

She turned back towards the stairs. "Let's talk to mom. I want out of here."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom was dead.

The woman was already skinny to begin with, but now as she laid back agianst the wall, her head hanging to the side with her mouth wide open, she looked like a skeleton. Loki couldn't tell what killed her: the son or her own frailty.

Loki felt sorry for her. This was not a proper place to die, somewhere so far from Valhalla it would be impossible for her soul to find it. If Loki had his magicks he could guide her soul there. The only honorable thing he could do was gently lay her body down and close her eyes.

"So now what?" Darcy asked. She kept her distance from the corpse.

"Now? We now know our enemy." Loki stood up. "So we kill the son of a bitch."


End file.
